


don't fall in love with the moment, and think you're in love with the girl

by magnetichearts



Series: for you are not beside but within me [1]
Category: Never Have I Ever (TV)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Banter, Bickering, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Pining, Teasing, also who doesn't love a good fake marriage, and it's me so, i know i do, i love them a lot and thats why this exists, oh fuck and of course, oh right and its the two of them so there's a lot of, ok so um, zero word count control™️
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24099529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetichearts/pseuds/magnetichearts
Summary: “Come on, wifey,” Ben says, snorting, and this makes Devi turn around and glare at him.“Do not call me that,” she says, crossing her arms.“It’s accurate. Why not?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.or; ben and devi get fake married. but a marriage isn't a wedding, and it's what happensafterthey say i do that makes things a lot more complicated(title from “she’s american” by the 1975)
Relationships: Ben Gross/Devi Vishwakumar
Series: for you are not beside but within me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772719
Comments: 81
Kudos: 407





	1. act i

**Author's Note:**

> don't. don't even. i have no explanation for this, nor do i care to give one, i just love these two so much i couldn't help it. this fic is a chance for me to have some sort of control over my word count (except like, i'm the only one who cares lol none of y'all seem to) and that's why it's multichapter and hopefully short
> 
> and lol who doesn't love a good green card marriage fic? i, as a self-proclaimed rom com fanatic, love them, so think of this sort of as never have i ever meets the proposal. this takes place after the fake wedding tho cause i think that there should be more stories about that. there's tons of banter and super domestic fluff and unlike my last fic absolutely zero angst. there's plenty of pining tho dw. i hope y'all enjoy
> 
> it's lowkey like a bottle fic so most of it takes place in one setting, and i don't give a flying crap abt real immigration policy okie dokie. and don't worry because even though i've already strayed from my outline and made this longer than i thought it would be i **will** finish this fic if it kills me but also mostly because i just enjoy writing it
> 
> also yes, i am super smart the song title is "she's american" and i love that little play on words. 
> 
> ok ty y'all hope you love it

“David,” Ben says, flinging a paper ball at her. 

The paper ball hits Devi in the side of the head, and she groans in disgust, crumpling up a ball of her own and tossing it at Ben, without even looking at him. 

“David,” he sing songs again, throwing another paper ball at her. 

“Go away, Gross. I’m trying to do some work.” 

“But David, this is important,” Ben says, and god, he’s probably pouting at her, staring at her with those brilliantly blue eyes. She kind of hates him. 

(she kind of doesn’t) 

“More important than me reviewing the last of these patient charts?” she asks, not even taking her eyes off of the piles of paperwork scattered in front of her. 

“Come on, wifey,” Ben says, snorting, and this makes Devi turn around and glare at him. 

“Do _not_ call me that,” she says, crossing her arms. 

“Why not? It’s accurate?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

The sad thing was that it _was_ true. She and Ben had gotten married last month so that Devi could stay in the country to apply for a few prestigious residencies. Sure, Canada had a few programs of their own, but the best ones were here, and she was going to stay here and be better than everyone else. 

She just kind of can’t believe that she’s legally married to _Ben Gross,_ the one of the lawyers for the hospital she worked at, her best friend Eleanor’s friend, and now, her husband.

She and Ben had rubbed each other the wrong way from the moment they had met, clashing even more when they had found out they were working together occasionally, and even more so since they had gotten married. But Devi had had no other options, her work visa denied, and not knowing anyone else in the country, she had asked Ben. What was surprising, perhaps, was that he had agreed. 

(perhaps it was less surprising now that she had gotten to know ben, had started to understand the kind of guy he was, annoying, and ridiculously competitive, but loyal to a fault, the kind of person who would do anything for his friends, and devi tried not to think about what it meant that she was now considered one of them) 

“I don’t like it,” she says instead. 

“Learn to love it, honey, because we have our interview soon,” he says, tossing an envelope at her. 

“What?” she shrieks. “Our immigration interview?” 

“Yeah,” he nods slowly, staring at her like she’s gone insane, which, to be fair, Devi’s not entirely sure she hasn’t. “Why are you acting like this, David? We both knew this was going to be something we had to do the second the both of us said ‘I do.’”

“I just never thought it would be so soon,” she mutters, sliding the letter out of its envelope. 

Ben looks at her like she’s grown a third head, and honestly, she’s getting tired of him looking at her like that. Why wasn’t he freaking out about this like she was? 

“How can you be so calm?” she asks, setting down the letter to stare at him.

Ben shrugs, propping his legs up on his mahogany desk even though she had told him not to do that a million times. Honestly, it was just the two of them in this office, and yet, he acted like it was his own personal place to wreak havoc. Professionalism breeded professionalism, and the more professional they were at home, the easier it would be to sell this marriage as real. 

“Did you know that immigration consular officials themselves estimate that anywhere from 5% to 30% of all marriages through which a green-card is obtained are false?” 

When he notices her staring at him incredulously, he shoots her a wink that does _not_ make her flush, it really doesn’t. “You didn’t think I wasn’t going to do some research before I agreed to this, did you? And, even with rates as high as that, very few of these marriages were detected as false.” 

“Ok, well, Ben,” she says, voicing rising in pitch and nerves, “25% of all visas obtained in the past few years have been through marriages, so very few have been detected as false proportionally to 25%, or very few, like, 3, because those are two different things.” 

Ben puts his legs down from the desk and peers at her from across the room. He’s wearing the blue shirt she told him to wear more frequently, she notes, and it brings out the colors of his eyes beautifully, so much so that she thinks she could get lost in them. “Devi, we’ll be fine. Might I remind you before we got married we’d known each other for like, two years? That’s as long as most people know each other before they get married.” 

“You don’t know everything about me,” Devi retorts, crossing her arms as if that’ll provide some sort of defense against Ben’s piercing gaze. 

He just laughs. “And you don’t know everything about me. I don’t think people who have been married twenty years know everything about each other. But, we both know enough. If you’re not satisfied, we can certainly go a few rounds quizzing each other.” 

Devi bites back the insult that springs to her tongue. The thing was, she _was_ grateful to Ben for what he did, she really was! It was just hard to remember to be grateful when he just generally existed and rubbed her the wrong way. 

“And anyways,” Ben says, nodding towards her desk. “You’ve been working for too long.” 

She shoots him a withering look. “Says the man burning the midnight oil more often than not.” 

“We’re burning it together.” 

That much, at least, was true. 

(devi was discovering, unexpectedly, that she and ben were far more alike than she had previously thought, not at all the opposites she had presumed them to be; both of them were workaholics with a competitive streak a mile wide, enjoyed trying new foods and were great at bottling up emotions until the day they died) 

Devi sighs, pressing her fingers against her eyes. “Ok, fine. Do you think we need to prepare for the interview?” 

Ben gets up from his desk and comes around to hers, leaning forward on his hands to look her better in the eyes. “Honestly, Devi, no. But I know it’ll give you some peace of mind if we do, so I don’t mind sitting through a few review sessions.” 

She looks up at him, and her breath catches in her throat at the look in his eyes. 

(suddenly it’s far too real, far too vivid for her, and devi can almost perfectly picture him leaning forward and softly kissing her, holding his hand in hers and falling asleep with him on the couch, before she blinks and the vision is gone, and she doesn’t even know where it came from)

She blinks again, forcing the vision to dissipate from her mind, and gives him a shaky smile. “So, you won’t hate me forever if I print up flashcards for us to quiz each other on?” 

He smirks. “What, you don’t have them already?” 

Devi flushes gently and reaches into the second drawer of her desk on the left side, pulling out two stacks of flashcards held together with rubber bands. “I made them before we got married, but I need you to fill in your answers cause I didn’t know the answers to some of the questions.” 

“Oh, I see how it is.” Ben takes the flashcards from her and flips through them, grinning. “You gave yourself an unfair advantage, David, getting to study these cards before I even knew they existed. Sneaky move.” 

“That’s not what I meant to do,” Devi protests, but she can’t help but smile. She probably would have suspected the same thing of Ben, had the roles been reversed. She stands up and swipes her stack of cards from the desk. “How do I know you weren’t just pretending you didn’t know these existed as a ploy for me to feel bad and go easy on you?” 

“Please, David, there’s nothing in the _world_ I could do to make you want to go easy on me, and vice versa. It’s an insult to the both of us.” 

He’s got a point there, but now that he’s stroked Devi’s competitive spirit, she’s not going to just let this go. 

“Well, Gross,” she says, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “We’ve got two months until we have to head to the interview. We’ll do weekly review sessions to get to know each other better from now until then, and then at the end, we’ll tally up all the points to see who wins. I bet you I’ll win.” 

Ben taps his finger against his chin. “I like it. But what are we going to bet?” 

Devi smiles evilly. “If _I_ win, you have to eat an entire Indian meal without _one_ sip of water, and I get to insult you for two solid weeks, and you can’t say anything back.” 

Ben frowns at her. “Well, if _I_ win, you have to admit that I am the smartest person you have ever met, and you also have to do all the chores around the house for two weeks. Without any help.” 

Devi _hated_ doing chores. That was part of the reason this marriage to Ben was bearable, he split the chore duties with her so she didn’t have to do everything by herself, and he was actually a decent conversationalist when it came down to it. 

But as much as it was bearable doing chores with Ben, she knows it’ll be a thousand times more fun to watch him have to take all of the insults she lobbies at him without a single reprieve, without arguing back whatsoever. After all, there was absolutely no way Devi was going to lose, so there was no harm in taking the bet. 

She stuck her hand out. “Deal.” 

“You’re going down, David.” 

‘We’ll see about that, Gross.” 

* * *

They’re doing the dishes later that night when Devi finally works up the courage to ask Ben the question that’s been on her mind since she got the letter. 

“Ben?” 

He hums at her, not turning to face her as he stacks the rest of the plates in the dishwasher, but she knows he’s listening. 

“Why did you agree to this?” 

He stops stacking and then turns around fully, leaning against the kitchen sink. “You’re seriously asking me now?” he says, raising an eyebrow. “After we’ve gotten married?” 

“Well, it’s not like we had a real romantic ceremony or anything. We just got a Justice of the Peace and signed the papers, that’s it. Not like, the royal wedding or anything.” She pauses. “No, I just—I wanted to know why. I mean, you gave up a lot for this, didn’t you?” 

Ben smirks at her. “Glad to know you see me as a ladies man.” 

Devi rolls her eyes and smacks him with her dishtowel. “You know that’s not what I was talking about.” 

Ben smirks at her once more, and she resists the urge to slap him. “No, I mean, I wasn’t _really_ giving up a lot. It’s not like you date a lot either.” 

Devi begrudgingly concedes the point with a nod of her head. The both of them were far too obsessed with their work to even consider dating, especially now. Just about to start her residency, Devi was more married to the hospital than she was to _Ben._

“And it wasn’t a big deal. I mean, as far as I’m concerned, you scored the jackpot. You got someone hot, rich, smart. Really, David, I’m surprised you didn’t thank me sooner, but I’m just glad you came to your senses.”

“Oh yeah,” she deadpans. “I’m so glad I got stuck with a 5’2 Jewish white boy who thinks the food from Taco Bell is spicy. Really living the dream life. I didn’t even get his hot dad and the Porsche Cayenne.” 

Ben chucks his whole dishtowel at her, and it smacks her in the face while she’s laughing. “You couldn’t handle my dad, David.” 

“Oh. I’m sure,” she gasps, ribs shaking with laughter. “He’d introduce me to Kanye at least, so I’m pretty sure he’s the Gross I should have married.” 

Ben rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “And I _don’t_ think the food from Taco Bell is spicy, just the ones they advertise as such. You know there’s a reason they have _mild_ salsa, right?”

“Oh yeah. For all the white people who decided spices weren't for them after colonizing half of the world and killing millions of people in their quest to get them. Just like you guys to ruin things for the rest of us.” 

Ben points a finger at her, and she wants to bite it off. That’ll show him to point at her. “Hey, I’m Jewish. You can’t lump me in with all the other white people.” 

Devi rolls her eyes as she moves to wipe down the dinner table. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ben,” she gasps, pretending to grovel. “I must be confusing you with the other Ben who had a bite to eat of my mom’s aloo gobi and then proceeded to down an entire glass of water. And it was mild, Ben. MILD.” 

He shakes his head. “That’s not mild, ok. Mild is like, macaroni and cheese. That was spicy.” 

Devi presses her fingers to the bridge of her nose, resisting the urge to bang her head against the kitchen counter. “Oh god,” she sighs. “You poor, poor boy, living a life without any kind of flavor whatsoever. But you still didn’t answer my question. Why did you do this?” 

“Maybe it’s because I wanted to live a life getting yelled at for my choices in food,” he smirks, but then catches the look on Devi’s face and sobers up. “I don’t know,” he shrugs. “You—you were my friend, you know, and you needed help. Despite what you think of me, Devi, I’m not a _bad_ person. It’s not like I wanted you to get deported.” 

(oh, but devi knows ben isn’t a bad person, in fact, she thinks he might be one of the best people she’s ever met, to go this far for a friend. some days she lies awake at night in her bed (not theirs, never theirs) and feels guilt pool in the pit of her stomach at the thought that she is taking advantage of him, but then she reminds herself that she did this so she could be closer to her friends; fabiola, eleanor, and him) 

Devi purses her lips and drops the dishtowel on the counter, leaning opposite him. “I know that. I just can’t help but feel that you gave a lot of it up. You know, you can’t exactly go dating other people while we’re married.” 

Ben laughs. “Oh, you really don’t know, huh?” At her confused look, he rushes to clarify. “My mom was pushing me to find someone. I told her I, uh, was dating someone from work, and she was happy about that. Of course, she was a little less happy when I told her we were getting married, especially under these circumstances, but, you know, she came around eventually. She really wants to meet you, by the way.” 

Devi tries not to blush at this. Ben had met her mother and her cousin, and had only received their approval when he insisted that he had done this because _Devi_ had asked them to, and even then, it took forever for Devi to convince her mother that she was doing this for a job, for her future.

(it definitely helped that devi had done it so she could be in the best residency programs, and that her mother actually somewhat approved of ben) 

“Well, let me know when she’s here,” she says. “I’ll try and keep the house clean.” 

Ben snorts at this. “We both know you don’t know how to operate the vacuum cleaner.” 

“Well, I’m not the one who insists on operating it at 7 am on a fucking Saturday.” 

The way Ben smirks shows Devi that he knows exactly what he’s doing when he does that, the little shit. “Maybe if someone got up at an acceptable time, then she could help me do the chores and I wouldn’t be waking her up early in the morning.” 

Devi sticks her tongue out at him, moving around the counter so she’s a few feet away instead of with the giant block of marble separating them. “Well, I’m not the one whose apartment we’re living in.” 

Ben laughs. “Devi, you moved into my place cause yours was tiny and you were sharing it with Eleanor and Fabiola. Admit it, my place is a lot better,” he says, showing the space off with a flourish of his arm. 

(which it was, devi wasn’t going to lie, and the fact that she now had her own office, even if she was sharing it with ben, was a definitely plus, because he respected her drive and work ethic, even more than fabiola and eleanor did, and he had hot water for a lot longer than she did, and really nice sheets with a ridiculous thread count)

“Never, Gross,” she says, poking him. Suddenly, she remembers something, something that worries her, and she knows Ben can tell from the way his face morphs from teasing to serious. 

“Devi, what’s wrong?” 

“Do you think they won’t be convinced we’re married because I didn’t take your name?” she asks. “No offense, Ben, but, I—I didn’t _want_ to, but now I’m thinking that might have been a mistake.” 

“No, no, no,” Ben assures her softly. “They won’t think that. Plenty of women keep their names now. Plus, I totally get why you kept yours. You got your degree and _everything_ under your name. It’s all you, Devi. None of it was me. I don’t care that you didn’t take my name.” He reaches forward, and for a second, Devi hopes that he might touch her skin, to set her aflame like she knows he would, but then he pulls back and she’s disappointed before she remembers she’s not supposed to be. 

“Devi, your name is _you._ It’s your father’s name and it’s your mother’s name. Keep it. I want there to be something of yours here.” 

(she realizes she’s twisting her wedding band around her finger as he says this, a beautiful silver band that he had insisted on getting for her, and she has an honest to god engagement ring as well, so beautiful she can hardly look at it, because when she looks at it something very dangerous stirs in her, and when ben talks to her like that and looks at her like that, with those shockingly blue eyes of his, it makes her feel _something,_ and she’s not sure exactly what; devi lives her life in definites, but this is the most uncertain she has ever been) 

She gives him a wry smile. “What, like my mismatched plates weren’t enough to convince you this was also my place?” 

And the moment is broken. He rolls his eyes and steps back from her, and suddenly, it’s like she can’t breathe. She can’t figure out whether or not she can’t breathe with him by her side or far from her. 

“I keep telling you, now that we’re actual adults, we need to have matching plates.” 

“Right, because matching plates are a testament to a long lasting marriage.” 

“You don’t know that they’re not!” 

“I’m pretty sure they’re not the reason that a marriage fails,” Devi fires back. 

Ben runs a hand through his hair, laughing softly. “Agree to disagree, David.” He glances at the clock. “Well, since it’s not that late, I’m going to get some more work done. You going to join?” 

She shakes her head. “No, I want to watch some TV.” 

“Make sure to—” 

“I know, Ben,” she sighs. “Tape the next Rick and Morty episode and I won’t tape over it when I tape my shows, I promise.” 

He smiles at her before walking back into their (his, when did she start to think of it as theirs?) office, and Devi settles herself on the couch, determined to lose herself in some shitty reality TV. 

She flops on the couch and uses her arm as a pillow, lying down to stare at the TV, but she must be more exhausted than she realized, because she wakes up suddenly, and the apartment is dark and quiet, the only sound and light coming from the TV. 

She shifts, and a blanket falls off of her shoulders. Ben’s blanket. Devi runs her fingers over it, reveling in the softness of the blue cotton. He would never let her use it when they had movie nights or watched TV together, claiming that it was too expensive for her and that she wouldn’t appreciate it. He’s not wrong, the blanket is easily one of the softest things she’s ever felt, and now it’s draped over her. Ben must have come in and found her asleep on the couch, given her his blanket to use. It’s something shockingly sweet, and Devi wants to think it’s so unlike Ben to do something for her and except nothing in return, except she’s starting to realize it’s _not._

(devi doesn’t know what’s happening, why her heart rate picks up like this, or perhaps she does, and just has to ignore it, because if she admits the truth to herself, the situation would get a lot more complicated than it needed to be, because suddenly all she wants is nothing more than to drag ben in here and to kiss him, to burrow underneath the blanket with him and fall asleep with him on their (his) couch) 

She presses her fingers to her lips, cursing herself in the dark.

Devi takes one of the throw pillows and sticks it over her head. She didn’t want to think about what she was feeling, all of these emotions swirling up inside of her that she didn’t know how to handle. There was something about Ben that made her defenses come crumbling down, that made her weak. Maybe it was the way his smile settled in her stomach after a long day, or the way his blue, blue eyes made her want to drown in him, or the way he always knew how to make her feel better. Whatever it was, Ben made her vulnerable. He saw through all of the bravado she put up for everyone else, and he was pretty much the only one who did. She didn’t know how she felt about that. In fact, she was rapidly becoming sure of only one thing: Ben. 

Devi groans, burrowing back into the couch, the scent of Ben on the blanket more of a comfort than she wanted it to be. She wants him here, with her, even though she knows that’s an impossibility. 

Just her luck to want to kiss her fake husband. 


	2. act ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Doesn’t someone have a big ego right now?”_
> 
> _“And it’s all thanks to you.”_
> 
> _“I regret everything.”_
> 
> _“I don’t.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> does this fic have a plot or is it all just devi and ben's banter...........who can say? 
> 
> lmao anyways lots of soft fluff for y'all and plenty of domesticity, and some riverdale discourse bc you know that's how i roll pls don't judge me i haven't watched that show since season 1 everything i know about it is based off of funny youtube videos
> 
> anyways if you like devi making fun of ben then this chapter is for you!! got a little longer than i anticipated but it's me so like who was surprised no one
> 
> hope y'all enjoy k thanks byeeee!!

Devi stifles a groan as she stares at the question on the card, chewing her lip as she thinks. 

“Time’s a ticking, David,” Ben says, smirking at her from where he’s sitting; opposite her and cross legged. 

She throws a piece of popcorn at him from the bowl set between the two of them, well aware of the timer on Ben’s phone ticking down. She knows this question, she swears she does. She’s Devi Vishwakumar, for crying out loud! She’s going into her residency, she’s a goddamn doctor! She knows all the bones and muscles in the body, like the back of her hand (and of course, the ones in the back of her hand) and she was brilliant at her job. 

(and she likes to think she knows ben, because he was a pretty interesting person to know, funny and smart, and strangely kind, someone who devi considered herself lucky to know, and there were layers to him, layers she wanted to figure out, layers that she wanted to take the time to learn about, and that was more daunting than any fact printed on an index card) 

“Just wait a moment, Gross,” she grinds out, staring at the question on the card harder, as if that’ll magically make the answer pop into her mind. 

Why was this so much harder than any other test she had taken?

“I’m afraid you don’t have many more moments left,” Ben says, smiling smugly at her, and it’s so annoying to Devi she reaches a leg out and kicks him in the knee. 

“Shut up.” 

“Ow!” Ben winces dramatically, gripping the place where she kicked him. “That hurt.” 

“Just another testament to your weak skin,” she hums, scanning through the mental rolodex of Ben facts she has locked away in her mind. She wanted to win this round; it would give her a one-up over him before they went into the final. 

She glanced down at the question in her hand again.  _ What is my favorite sport to watch, not play? _

“It’s not basketball,” she says, thinking aloud. “You like playing basketball, even though you suck at it.” 

“Hey!” Ben protests. “I take offense to that.” 

“You shouldn’t.” Devi stares off into space, thinking, before she eventually settles on the only other sport she can ever remember Ben mentioning. “Soccer?” 

By the way his face falls, she knows she’s got the right answer. “Ha!” she crows. “Take that, Gross!” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Ben grumbles, pulling his own card out. His brows furrow as he reads the question. “What was my favorite classic book series growing up?” 

Devi bites her lip to stop her smile. This was something about her that not many people knew, but she was sure she had mentioned to Ben. A few times, to be fair, not frequently, but still, something he should know. 

He taps the card in his palm while staring at it, and Devi’s knee bounces up and down, she’s so excited. She wants to win this bet, more than anything, and if he doesn’t get this question, she  _ does. _

“You’re never going to get this, Gross,” she says, far more confidently than she feels. It was a popular series, of course it was, but Devi’s sure she is superior to Ben. 

The answer, of course, is  _ Anne of Green Gables, _ but Devi prays he won’t get it. 

Ben stares at her, those blue, blue eyes peering into her soul, and for a wild moment Devi thinks he can read her brain, can see exactly what she’s thinking. 

_ “Harry Potter?”  _ he eventually guesses, and two seconds later, the time runs out.  “Ha!” she says. “I won!” She’s so happy she gets up and dances around the living room, pointing at Ben.  _ “Harry Potter _ isn’t a classic—although it should be—the answer was  _ Anne of Green Gables, _ and because you didn’t get that, that means I won!” 

Devi feels like how she thinks Olympic medalists feel when they get up on the podium, or perhaps how Jake Peralta felt when he won the bet in  _ Brooklyn Nine-Nine. _ Either way, she won, and that was all that mattered. 

“Ok, ok, David,” Ben grouses, getting up. “You won, fair and square. Now, when do we carry out my punishment? I want to be prepared.” 

“Oh, Ben,” Devi says, walking towards him. “Nothing could even  _ begin _ to prepare you for what I’m about to put you through.” 

* * *

“Are you serious?” Ben asks, eyebrow quirked. He stares at the plate in front of him. “Just  _ looking _ at that makes my eyes water.” 

Devi cackles. “That’s kind of the point, isn’t it?” 

“Devi, might I remind you, if I die before our immigration interview, that’s not exactly a great look for you.” 

Devi shrugs. “Well, I’m not the one who  _ lost, _ so I guess I don’t really care.” 

“You are the worst winner in the history of the word,” Ben says, but he reluctantly takes a seat at the table. Devi sits next to him, propping her feet up on the chair across from her. 

“Don’t deny that you’d be a terrible winner as well, Gross. I’m just acting how I think you would.” Devi reaches over and grabs the glass of water she’d set down for herself and takes a long drink. “I love water, don’t you?” 

Ben gives her a withering look. “This is literally just torture.” 

Devi tosses her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t be a sore loser, Ben,” she pouts, batting her eyelashes at him. 

Ben pokes his plate with his fork. “What is this?” 

“Vindaloo.” 

“Vinda-what?” 

“Vindaloo,” Devi repeats, snickering. “It’s a pork dish marinated in fresh ginger, sugar, spices, and vinegar, and then more spices.” 

“I thought you were vegetarian.” 

Devi shakes her head. “I still largely eat vegetarian foods, mostly because it’s more sustainable, but I have meat every now and then. My mother is a lot more strict about practicing it than I am.” 

Ben pokes the pork again with his fork. “Stop that,” Devi says, grabbing his fork out of his hand. “It’s not going to come alive and eat you.” 

“You said this was marinated in spices  _ twice?” _

“Yes, what’s what we do, white boy, to give things  _ flavor. _ Maybe you should try telling some of your friends spices other than salt and pepper exist. It’d give them a chance to try things that actually taste good, for once.” 

Ben grabs his fork back from Devi. “I don’t have to sit here while you insult me.” 

Devi laughs gleefully. “Oh, but I think you do. Remember the terms of the bet? You have to let me insult you for two weeks without saying anything back!” 

Ben grumbles, staring at the dish once more. “I hate you.”

“Well, come on, white boy. That vindaloo isn’t going to eat itself.” 

Ben takes a tiny bite of the vindaloo, and Devi can’t help it, reaching for her glass of water and sipping it, cool as a cucumber. “The whole meal, Ben. In this century, please.” 

Ben shoots a nasty look at her, sticking his tongue out, and then stuffs a chunk of the pork into his mouth. Devi almost chokes on her water as she watches his face turn red, and then she  _ does  _ choke on her water as he starts spluttering. 

“Oh—oh my god,” Ben coughs, swallowing the pork, coughing as it goes down his throat. “Oh my god, my mouth is on fire.” 

“Hmm,” Devi hums, taking another sip of water. She’s probably enjoying this far more than she has to, but oh well. Sue her.

“This is ridiculous,” he coughs again, tears welling up in his eyes. He focuses on the glass of water in her hands. “You are a cruel human being.” 

Devi lifts a shoulder and then drops it, attempting to be nonchalant. “Looks like you’ve still got quite a bit of that vindaloo to work through, Gross. I’d get started, if I were you. It only gets spicier the longer you wait.” 

Ben then eats the vindaloo in as much silence as he can, coughing and gasping at the spiciness. In all honesty, Devi can’t blame him. She’d had that vindaloo before, and it was spicy even for  _ her. _ Of course, that was exactly why she’d chosen it for Ben. 

When the last bite disappears off his plate, Ben pushes away from the table and practically runs towards their (his) fridge, filling a glass of water and downing it instantly. “I’m never doing that again,” he swears, setting the glass down on the kitchen counter. 

“You violated the contract, though!” Devi protests, standing up herself. “You had water!” 

Ben raises a finger. “Actually, the contract stipulated that I could not have any water for the duration of the meal, and since that ended as soon as I finished the vindaloo, the water I just consumed is inadmissible under your rules. Plus, Devi,” he says, crossing his arms. “The contract also stipulated water, which meant at any time during the meal, I could have consumed milk, juice, tea, or any other beverage to ease my suffering. But I didn’t, because I knew that’s not what you meant.” 

Sometimes, Devi forgets she married a lawyer. She both hates it, and loves it. This is one of the times she hates it. 

“Ugh,” she groans, because no matter what he says, Ben is right. Technically, he had followed her rules. “Fine. But you can’t say anything back to me insulting you.” 

He nods. “I know. I shook on it. I don’t break my deals.”

(his blue, blue eyes are looking into hers, and devi wants to crumple to the floor, feeling the weight of his gaze on her like a heavy, physical thing. she’s suddenly extremely aware that this arrangement they have, this fake marriage, for all that she tells herself it is fake, is real, at least in some ways, and that it is another deal she and ben have made, another promise they have made to each other, and if there is one thing devi has learned about ben throughout this entire process, it is that he does not break his promises) 

Devi looks away then, because she’s afraid she might do something she regrets if she looks at him any longer. “Well, you finished one part of the bet,” she quips, desperately scrabbling to focus on something else. “You still have the other end of the bargain to hold up.” 

Ben smiles wryly. “Can’t wait.” 

* * *

Ok, Devi thought she’d enjoy these two weeks, relentlessly teasing Ben without any of his dumb rebuttals or banter, but, she’s  _ not.  _

It turns out the only reason she likes sparring with Ben is because he spars back, because he fires back and gets her riled up, because he gives as good as he gets, which is frankly, more than Devi can say for most people. 

It’s interesting, talking to him, so when that stops, Devi finds she kind of hates it. 

No matter what she tosses at him, she can’t seem to get him to say anything back. 

“Hey Ben,” she says, one day, when he walks in wearing a truly  _ horrible _ sweater, “Mr. Huxtable called, he wants his outfit back.” 

She gets a hum back, nothing more. 

“Gross,” she calls, another time when she finds him asleep, drooling on the kitchen table, “I recommend you do that  _ after _ you trick the girls into going out with you.” 

He sleepily smiles at her, and then ducks into his room. 

“Hey,” she tries again, crossing her arms on the back of the couch and staring at the TV screen, “maybe if you watched shows that were geared towards people who actually  _ had _ lives growing up, you would have one too!” 

He still does nothing, just gives her a fond, exasperated look, and continues watching TV. 

It continues like this for a week, until she can’t take it anymore, until she reaches her breaking point, on a Sunday morning.

“Ben,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee, “I forgot to tell you that Woodstock called. They want their shorts back,” she says, nodding to his pants. 

Ben does nothing, just pours himself a cup of coffee, and she snaps. 

“Ok, what the fuck is the problem with you?” She sets her mug down on the counter and puts her hands on her hips, glaring at him. “Why are you acting like this?” 

Ben’s forehead creases at her turns around, clearly confused. “Like what?” he asks. 

(devi might or might not fall in love with the sound of his voice all over again, after having gone only a week without hearing it; they’ve both been so busy and he hadn’t responded to  _ anything _ she’d said, and it hurts her, because she does like it, talking to him, and hearing him talk to her now is soothing an ache she didn’t even know had been hurting) 

“Like—all cold and weird and just—not you,” she stammers, gesturing at him. “You don’t talk to me, you don’t say  _ anything, _ even when I comment on your shows and your clothes, it’s like you’re not here!” 

Ben chuckles softly, setting down his coffee mug and stepping a little closer to her. “Devi, we agreed that I couldn’t say anything back to you, remember? I’ve just been honoring the terms of the bet, like you wanted.” 

“Well, I hate that!” She stomps her foot, fully aware she is acting extremely immature for her age. “I don’t like it at all. I want you to  _ talk _ to me, Ben, but lately it’s like you’re a million miles away and you’re not even here, and—” 

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts her gently, catching her flailing hands with his own. “Ok, ok, Devi,” he laughs, but it’s soft, not condescending. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. You know the both of us don’t know how to not take work home. I’m sorry. It’s just been crazy. You know, there’s just been so much stuff to get done, and I guess I’ve been kind of lost in my own mind. I didn’t realize I wasn’t talking to you at _ all.  _ I just wanted to make sure I followed through on our bet.” 

His thumbs are stroking of the backs of her hands, something she finds soothing and comforting, something that she doesn’t want to stop, and for the first time in a week, it feels like this weight has been taken off her chest. 

“I just—I miss talking to you,” she admits. This is the biggest thing Devi can admit right now, because she doesn’t know how to admit anything else, all of the things she keeps locked away in her soul. This is the easiest thing for her to say. 

“You like hearing me beat you that much?” Ben quips, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he smiles, and that’s exactly what Devi needs, a little bit of levity to loosen the knot in her chest. “I mean, I get it, David, once it happens so many times, you kind of miss it—” 

“Stop it,” she says, shoving him in the chest. He stumbles back a bit but laughs. “I take everything I said back. I don’t miss it at all.” 

Ben smirks at her. “You can’t, David. You admitted it.” 

She rolls her eyes, leaning against the kitchen counter with her hip. “Doesn’t someone have a big ego right now?” 

“And it’s all thanks to you.”

“I regret everything.” 

“I don’t.” 

* * *

Devi roots in her purse for her keys, turning to Fabiola and Eleanor. “I told Ben to leave the house after you guys got here, so I’m sure he’s still in there, making sure everything’s nice and clean. You know how he gets.” She rolls her eyes as she unlocks the door, leading her friends into their (his) apartment. 

“Ben,” she calls out. “Fab and El are here!” 

Ben walks out of his bedroom. “Hey guys,” he says, smiling at them. “I’ll get out of your hair, in just a second. I just needed to grab a few things.” 

“How’s it going with the shooting, El?” he calls, grabbing his jacket. 

Eleanor’s cheeks go pink. “I—I didn’t think you’d remember,” she stammers. 

Ben shrugs on his jacket and smiles. “How could I forget? This one,” he says, jerking this thumb towards Devi, “never shuts up about her awesome and amazing best friends. I’m starting to think she wishes she’d married one of  _ you _ instead of me.” 

“Starting to? I thought it was obvious, Gross,” Devi quips. 

He rolls his eyes, picking up his keys from the dish they have by the door. “Yeah, yeah, David, we all know you got the short end of the stick. Oh, I picked up the milk that you wanted.” 

“Oh, great, thanks,” Devi says, setting her purse down on the kitchen table. “I added a few things to the list for next week. I thought we could try out one of my mom’s recipes.” 

“Sounds good,” he says, opening the door. “Oh, and I got you that ice cream we both like while I was out.” 

“Thanks. Maybe we could split it later while binging the new season of  _ Riverdale _ and discussing conspiracy theories about Jughead going to Hogwarts.” 

“David, I keep telling you, that’s the stupidest show on the planet. Sounds ridiculous.” He pauses. “I’m in,” he agrees, just like Devi knew he would. “I’ll see you later tonight. Nice to see you guys,” he says to Fabiola and Eleanor, waving goodbye before shutting the door. 

Devi glances back at her friends, pulling out her phone. “So, where do you guys want to order from tonight? I’ve queued up a bunch of your favorites, Eleanor, and I’ve made sure to keep  _ Cosmos _ on standby for you, Fab. I was thinking we could get—” she stops when she sees Eleanor looking at her with a raised eyebrow. “What?” 

“When did you get disgustingly domestic?” she asks.

Devi’s face scrunches up in confusion. “Domestic?” 

“Yeah,” Eleanor says, waving her hands at Devi. “You, and Ben. You’re  _ domestic.” _

‘We are not. We just communicate. We are “married”, El,” she says, putting air quotes around the word married. 

“There’s married, and then there’s  _ married,” _ Eleanor says. “You guys think this is  _ Did You Hear About The Morgans?, _ but it’s actually  _ Two Weeks Notice, _ and you guys are here, playing house, pretending that nothing is actually happening between you.” 

“Because there isn’t!” Devi insists, but she knows she’s screwed when Fabiola frowns at her. 

“Devi, I know I don’t exactly pick up on these things the best, but what I just saw there was not an accident. Why else would Ben have gotten that ice cream?” Fabiola asks, crossing her arms. 

Devi flops down at the kitchen table, her head in her hands. “I don’t know,” she blurts, trying to keep herself from admitting a very scary truth that’s staring her in the face. “He likes it too.” 

Fabiola and Eleanor exchange a look, and then take seats across from her. “Then why did he tell you? He could have just kept the whole thing for himself,” Fabiola points out, rather logically, which Devi hates. 

(she hates that no matter what she does, she always seems to be coming back to this illogical conclusion, this mess of feelings and emotions that simply can’t be there, they can’t, and the even more terrifying thing is that devi’s afraid ben feels the same way, and he can’t, he just can’t, because devi’s not sure she can handle that; ben is the moon, and she is the tide; drawn to him, pulled in by his gravity, but only the point where it becomes too weak, and she crashes against the shore) 

Devi tries to keep her hands from shaking as she links them on the kitchen table. “You guys are insane. There’s nothing going on between me and Ben. We’re just friends, ok? We spend a lot of time together, in this apartment. That’s it.” 

Both Fabiola and Eleanor give her a look that tells her they clearly don’t believe her, but thankfully, they drop it. 

“So, did I tell you guys about the actor opposite me? Oh my god, he’s absolutely ridiculous!” Eleanor begins, and Devi smiles as she listens to her friends recount their days. As much as she’s trying to pay attention to them, and really, she is, her mind is a million miles away, caught up in what is and what could be. 

* * *

“Wait—wait,” Ben says, setting the popcorn down. “So,  _ who _ is the Gargoyle King again?” 

Devi rolls her eyes. “Oh my  _ god,” _ she sighs heavily, “how many times do I have to tell you, Ben. Chic was the Gargoyle King!” 

“Who’s Chic?” 

Devi presses her fingers to her head. “Chic is Jughead and Betty’s half-brother that Alice and FP had when they were teenagers.” 

“Ok,” Ben says slowly, staring at the screen like it had done something to personally offend him. “But what does the Gargoyle King have anything to do with what’s going on now?”

‘He doesn’t!” Devi says. “Right now, Jughead is off to Hogwarts while Veronica’s dad has sold his soul to the devil to make himself as powerful as Lord Voldemort, but the only catch is that he looks like Lord Voldemort.” 

Ben shakes his head. “I swear, I’ve seen every season of this show with you, and I  _ still _ don’t get it.” 

“No one does, Ben. You’re supposed to be confused by what’s happening.” 

Ben rubs his eyes. “Well, I mean, it’s not like it can get any crazier, can it?” 

Devi laughs. “Oh, Ben, don’t be stupid. That’s what you think, until the next season rolls around, and they make it even worse. The musical episode they did for this season was _ Hamilton. Hamilton! _ How can a bunch of teenagers recreate Hamilton! Not to mention, half the time the show looks like it’s taking place in 1950, and the other half in 2018. They really have no consistency. I love it.” 

Ben smirks, switching the popcorn for the candy Devi has. They’re currently sitting on opposite ends of the couch both covered in blankets, and it’s becoming something akin to a tradition for the both of them. Ben’s the only person she knows who will sit through  _ Riverdale _ with her, not even Fabiola or Eleanor can take it, and he listens to her crazy conspiracy theories for hours on end. She appreciates it. 

“It’s a dumb show. I keep telling you, we should watch  _ The Newsroom _ together.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Ben, nobody actually watches  _ The Newsroom. _ It’s like one of the shows people like to pretend they watch because it’s so pretentious and makes them seem smarter than they actually are. Like,  _ The Wire _ or something.” 

“Fine, if we can’t watch that, can we please watch something halfway decent and that has a plot line that doesn’t make my head spin?” 

Devi grumbles, but she has to say, he has a point. “Fine. What about the first  _ Iron Man _ movie?” 

“That’s the best one.” 

“You know it is.” 

She doesn’t notice it at the time, but throughout the movie she moves closer to Ben, instead of them sitting on opposite sides of the couch, she sits in the center, cross legged, and he sits with his back pressed to the left side of the couch, as they banter about whether or not Tony Stark's Mark I suit is better than Mark V. 

Devi loves this movie, she really does, but it’s already so late and it’s quiet in their apartment, and besides the movie, the only sound is Ben’s breathing. She tries to keep her eyes open, and makes it all the way to the part where Tony Stark first takes the finished suit out to Gulmira before she passes out on their (his) couch. 

When she wakes up, the only thing she can hear is Ben’s breathing, the only light coming from the dim TV, the movie long over. Her head is resting on Ben’s chest, her arms banded around his waist, and she’s buried once again, underneath his blanket. 

Except this time the scent of Ben isn’t just lingering, and she doesn’t have to grab onto it with both her hands to try and keep it there, this time he’s there, in her arms, and she has him in a way she’s never had him before. 

She raises her head to look at him, and his head is tilted to the side, just gently pressing against the couch cushions, and he’s asleep. For a moment, she’s disappointed, sad she can’t see the beautiful, swirling shades of blue that are his eyes, but then she lightly traces a hand down his face and she doesn’t mind. She traces his features with her fingertips, studying him. 

(devi has studied bones and muscles, veins and arteries, but suddenly, the only thing she wants to learn about is ben) 

He looks so young like this, in sleep, so peaceful and quiet, and Devi feels her heart lurch in her chest as her fingers trail down, just brush against his lips, which feel ridiculously soft. Ben is sweet with her, soft in a way she knows he isn’t with anyone else, but sometimes she aches for  _ more. _ She wants him to come home, come home to her, to talk to her, but she doesn’t know how to make that happen. 

(maybe she needs to be the one to reach out, to take the first step; after all, ben had married her to keep her in the country, for  _ her _ dreams, and what had she done for him in return? nothing, absolutely nothing, and as she looks at him now, perfectly immobile in sleep, she knows she has to find a way to show him just how much she appreciates what he’s done for her)

She commits to memory this vision of him, in sleep, makes sure to immortalize it. She might never get this chance again, might never get to fall back into the cradle of his arms and just breathe him in, breathe in the way his arm bands around her even now to keep her safe, the way the blanket stretches out over the both of them, the way he keeps her warm, warmer than any blanket ever could. 

She files the memory away, perfect, golden, and shining, and buries her face back in his chest, feeling her heartbeat slow, from erratic, to steady. Devi won’t give this moment up, not for anything. 

She closes her eyes and goes back to sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your comments and kudos make me happier than ben teaming up with devi! come talk to me about the show! you can find me on tumblr: @[parkersedith](https://parkersedith.tumblr.com)


	3. act iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Devi laughs at the memory. “It was an absolute disaster.”_
> 
> _Ben shrugs, locking eyes with her. “Yeah, but it was fun. I always have fun with you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys i did the math and this chapter alone is 66% of the previous two chapters so like, i really had no control when it came to this one but like i know not a single one of you is surprised because it's me and i'm trash like that hahahaha lmfao 
> 
> devi and ben’s love language is acts of service and i don’t care if you disagree with me on that bc i’m right but also like, you don’t have to read this fic so like,,,,,,idk what you want fam
> 
> uh yeah anyways i had so much fun writing this chapter! only one more left to go and it is going to be fantastic!!! 
> 
> k hope y'all enjoy thx byeeee

Devi’s shaking. 

It’s not even cold outside, after all, and who can complain about Southern California weather? It was a perfect day, cloudless and sunny, and yet, she’s shaking because she’s so fucking nervous. 

She flexes her hand, trying to hold onto the phantom feeling of Ben’s thumb stroking the back of her hand soothingly. She had come straight from work, and he was going to come from their apartment, and yet, he wasn’t here and everything was so much more fucking nerve wracking that it was supposed to be. 

She wants to wait for him, to hug him and breathe in the scent of him, which calms him like nothing else does, but she doesn’t have the time to sit and wait, because suddenly her name is being called and she’s being led into the interview room. 

Devi tries to stop her hands from shaking as she sits down, opposite a small, petite woman who gives her a soft smile. 

Devi does not let this comfort her, this woman is going to try and see if they were meant to be split apart and because of that she doesn’t deserve any of Dvei’s kindness, nothing more than politeness. 

“Hi,” she says, smiling at the woman, hoping it doesn’t come off too anxiety-wracked. “I’m sorry about my husband,” she continues, waving at the door, ignoring the flutters that manifest in her stomach when she calls Ben her husband. “He’s coming from our apartment.” 

The lady nods, making a tiny tick on her paper. “So you two live together?” 

Oh god. The questions had already started. 

(she viscerally wishes, in the moment, that ben was there with her, to rub a soothing hand down her back, to whisper in her ear, to just  _ be _ there, to be the person he always was, the person that grounded her, that calmed her shaking hands and brought her back to herself. but she had been living twenty-five years of her life before she had ever met ben, and she was devi fucking vishwakumar, and she could do this) 

She nods. “Yes. I moved into Ben’s place from my own apartment, which I was sharing with my two friends.” 

The lady hums, scratching her answer down on the piece of paper. “And how did you and Ben meet?” 

“Through a mutual friend,” Devi explains. She relaxes a bit, although not  _ too _ much, still hyper aware of her surroundings, and leans back in her chair. “My friend, Eleanor. And we actually also work together, but in different departments. I interned at the hospital where he works as a lawyer, and I’m hoping to get a residency there.” 

The lady raises an eyebrow. “What if you don’t? What if you get a residency elsewhere? Will your husband follow you?” 

Devi stares at her. That wasn’t something she had even thought of, and it’s a huge failing for her, for someone who was usually planning so far ahead, but she had been so worried and preparing for the most basic questions that larger ones about their future, especially concerning her residency, had slipped her mind. Particularly because she had no idea where her residency would be. 

“Hey!” she hears, just then, and she turns around to see Ben entering the room. “Sorry I'm late. Traffic was horrible.” 

He drops a kiss on Devi’s head in greeting, running his hand down her back, and she closes her eyes and leans into his touch unwittingly, the nerves in her stomach already settling at his presence. 

“Mr. Gross,” the interviewer says. “I was just asking your wife about your jobs. You both work at the same hospital, correct?” 

Ben nods as he takes his seat next to Devi, crossing his legs. “That’s right.” 

“Your wife is applying for residency programs, all over the United States, I assume?” 

“Only the best programs,” Ben says, shooting her a fond look. Warmth pools in her stomach at the softness in his eyes. “She’s the smart one.” 

Devi knows he’s just saying it for the interview, but she can’t help the way her heart flutters at the clear affection in his voice. 

“What if she gets into a residency program far away from here? According to my records, you grew up in this area, have family not too far from here. Would you be willing to move across the country for her?” 

“Absolutely,” Ben says, not a moment’s hesitation in his voice. He looks over at her, and Devi’s heart pounds as he links their fingers together, the warm metal of his wedding ring brushing against her hand. “She’s the love of my life. I’d follow her anywhere.” 

The interviewer nods, clearly impressed with his answer, and Devi finds her body relaxing, tenseness leaching out of her at the mere brush of Ben’s fingers against hers. 

(she’s not exactly sure she wants to focus on this, at the moment, this moment that determines the rest of her life, but she can’t help it, the way every cell in her body seems to be telling her to look at ben, to trust him, even the way, her mind without knowing it, looks for him, the way her soul reacts to him, as if they were meant to be) 

They run through the most basic questions rather easily, ones that they had prepared for. Ben and Devi both answer seamlessly, although they spend more time looking at one another than they do the interviewer. She can’t help it. Nothing in the world calms her like Ben’s eyes, like his smile and his laugh. Because no matter how much she has prepared, she’s still scared that they will take her away from him, something that is scarier than anything else she has ever faced. 

His hand stays loosely curled around hers, though, and whenever her mind wanders, she just focuses on the feeling of his fingers brushing against hers to collect herself, to calm herself. 

“When did your relationship turn romantic?” 

Ben glances at Devi, something she’s come to realize indicates he wants to go first. “If you’re asking when I fell for her, that was before we ever started dating. Honestly, it was right after we’d met, which is quick, I know,” he says, with a laugh. “I was walking down the hall of the hospital to meet with another doctor, and I saw here there, in her full glory, and she was ripping apart these two police officers who were bringing in this poor kid, all battered up, and refusing to take the cuffs off of him. She was glorious. I fell head over heels right then and there.” 

His eyes never leave hers when he says this. 

The interviewer turns to her. “And you, Ms. Vishwakumar?” 

The question is one they had prepared for, but Ben’s answer startles her. It wasn’t the answer they had planned to give, and yet, it was so much more  _ real. _ Devi knows exactly what he’s talking about, can picture the incident in her mind clear as day, except she hadn’t noticed Ben was there. But her answer comes to her, perfectly, and she has no doubt when she answers. 

“I knew I liked him for the first time when he sat down with me and watched my favorite guilty pleasure TV show. He was—and still is—the only person who’s ever done that for me.” She lifts a shoulder and drops it. “No one else, not even my best friends, wanted to do something like that for me. I think it was the first time I saw the kind of man he was. The kind I could love.” 

She focuses on looking at the interviewer, cause she knows the look Ben will be giving her, the look that makes her heart leap into her throat, that makes her whole body freeze, the look that is too much for her. 

“Do you plan on having children?” 

She thanks every god she can think of that they had discussed this ahead of time.

Devi shakes her head. “I’m not really big on kids. I certainly don’t want to have any biologically. I think there’s something to be said for adoption.” 

Ben nods, his thumb stroking her palm in that soothing motion she loves so much. “You know, it’s more Devi’s choice that it’s mine, because it’s her body, but I agree. I don’t think we’re ready for kids for a while, though.” 

“Definitely not,” she laughs. “We work too much.” 

“You both have very time-consuming jobs. How much time do you spend together?” 

“Well, Ben complains, but he sits through our  _ Riverdale _ screening sessions every week,” Devi says, smiling at the lady. “And he knows how much I hate the chores, so we split those so I won’t go insane. We also try to go grocery shopping together, which isn’t the  _ most _ romantic date on the planet, but it’s always a lot of fun.” 

Ben chuckles. “Yeah, I mean, we’re newlyweds, so I always want to be with her, but she’s also my best friend. We try to get all the time together that we can, but we both have really busy jobs that we love and we're dedicated to. It’s a hard thing, but we make it work.” 

(what scares devi the most is that not a single one of their answers have been fake. everything she and ben have said is honest, from a very real place of emotion, from a foundation of friendship and respect and commitment. devi had expected to lie in this interview, to front, to fool, to put on a charade and to pretend to be sickeningly in love. what she hadn’t expected was for everything to be real, and raw, and true) 

“Where was your first date?” 

Devi furrows her eyebrows. “Well, I think we had a few first dates?” she starts, raising an eyebrow and turning to Ben. They had prepped for this question, and tried to find one of their outings that would work. 

Ben nods. “The first date we went on was ruined by the rain, because I had brought her to an outdoor screening for a movie, and then I tried a second time, but that was ruined by some work obligations, so the third date we had was literally the two of us watching TV together.” 

She remembers the occasions he’s talking about. They hadn’t been  _ dates, _ simply times when two friends were hanging out, but looking back on it, Devi can easily see how they could be modified as such. 

Devi laughs at the memory. “It was an absolute disaster.” 

Ben shrugs, locking eyes with her. “Yeah, but it was fun. I always have fun with you.” 

Devi is a doctor. She knows all of the bones, all of the muscles, all of the systems in the body. She knows it is physically impossible for her heart to melt at Ben’s words. Not only would she be dead if it had, it’s not anatomically possible. It’s not a real thing, and her heart doesn’t melt in her chest. And yet, that’s all that she can seem to feel. Because what other explanation is there for this warm feeling, this feeling that makes her feel like the sun is shining on her face? 

“Who proposed to whom?” 

“Uh, I did,” Ben says, raising his hand and shifting in his seat. “Devi’s not a traditional girl, you know, she had brought up the idea of marriage while we were dating, first, but I’m a traditional guy. I wanted to ask her.” 

He looks over at her, and the look on his face (love, her mind whispers) is so perfect and clear Devi wants to applaud him for his acting ability. “You know, I just—I realized that there was no one else I wanted to spend the rest of my life bickering with. She’s amazing.” 

Devi feels her throat close up. She can’t do anything but stare at him, naked shock on her face. They hadn’t talked about this, and her heart is pounding in her chest. It is like she is hearing everything for her first time. 

Because Ben  _ had _ proposed to her, probably not in the way the interviewer was imagining, but he had told her that he was currently single, that she was far more interesting to be with than most people he knew, that he enjoyed arguing with her more than talking to other people, that he didn’t mind helping her out if she needed it. 

Looking back on it, Devi thinks it’s one of the most romantic things anyone has ever done for her. 

The interviewer then marks one final thing down on her paper before smiling at them, one that is far more genuine than any other smile she had given them. “Well, thank you for coming in. I can see you two are really a wonderful couple. Body language speaks volumes, after all.” She nods towards their hands. “We’ll need to check a few things first, of course, but then you should be receiving a letter in a few weeks to update you on the status of your green card, Ms. Vishwakumar.” 

She stands up, and Ben and Devi do the same. “Thank you both for coming. I wish you the best in your life together.” 

They smile and thank the lady, and the second the both of them are out of the room and down the hall, Devi throws herself into Ben’s arms, too relieved to think it through. 

“Oh my god,” she breathes into his ear. His arms circle her effortlessly, and she feels more than hears the laugh he lets out. “We did it.” 

“We did,” he sighs, but he doesn’t let go of her, burying his face into her neck. Devi doesn’t want to let go of him either, has been resisting the urge to climb into his bed after falling asleep with him on the couch, a few weeks ago. It’s like nothing else in the world can suffice, not now that she knows what it feels like to fall asleep with Ben’s heartbeat pressed against her cheek, his body curled around hers, his touch brushing her skin. 

(she remembers that later that day, she had woken up to a note from ben saying that he had called in sick for her, to let her sleep, that there was lunch for her in the fridge and that he wanted her to get some rest, and she had been so overcome with emotion in that moment she had to sit down, legs trembling at the idea of someone caring for her so much)

They stand there for a few more moments, but increasingly, Devi’s becoming more aware of how awkward they look. She breaks away from him and steps back, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You did well, Ben.” 

He jokingly offers his arm to her, and she takes it. “You did better,” he smiles. “Did you drive here?” 

“Uber’d.” 

Ben opens his car door for her and she slides in. Devi likes driving, she really does, but she likes being a passenger when Ben is driving even more. He climbs into the driver’s seat and starts the car, pulling them out of the parking lot so they can head home. She lets her gaze drift over him, not in a creepy way, but as casually as she can, trying not to seem like she’s ogling her husband. 

Ben’s far more attractive than he has any right to be while he’s driving, at least, when he’s calm. When people didn’t follow road rules, the tenseness he showed was something Devi loved to laugh at. But, watching his fingers tap against the steering wheel or admiring the way the muscle in his arm is emphasized by the way he clutches the wheel, Devi thinks she could spend the rest of her life looking at him and never get tired of it. 

She reaches over and turns on the radio. “So,” she says, the dulcet tones of Queen filling the car, “how was work?” 

Ben hums, drumming his fingers against the wheel. “I need to remind myself I’m getting paid quite a lot for doing what I do.” 

Devi frowns in sympathy. “That bad, huh?” 

He glances over at her as they pull up to a red light. “I don’t know. I just guessed that when I thought of becoming a lawyer….” he trails off, heaving a sigh as he glances out the driver’s side window. “I thought it would be a lot more of me directly helping people. Not helping a broken healthcare system scam the most needy people out of money. I’ve been thinking about doing some pro bono work on the side. The red tape at the hospital is just too much to cut through. Maybe then I’d make some sort of a difference.” He reaches over with his hand, grasping hers quickly and squeezing it. “Nothing like you, of course,” he says, returning his hand to the wheel as the light turns green. “You’re the real life-saver.” 

Devi shakes her head, tapping her fingers against her thigh. “No, I’m just a lot more direct when it comes to life-saving. I know what you mean.” She gives him a bitter smile. “It seems like the healthcare system cares more about money than about patients. That’s what happens when you turn medicine into bureaucracy.” 

Ben smiled dryly. “You sound like your mom, and you’re right. Oh, she called the other day, by the way.” 

Devi sits up straight in her seat. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Because she wasn’t calling for you. She was calling for me.” 

Devi’s brows furrow. “For you? Why would she be calling for you?” 

Ben glances over at her, and she can see the hesitation on his face. “What?” Devi asks again. 

“She wanted to tell me that the anniversary of your dad’s passing was coming up next month. If you know, you wanted me to come with you.” 

Devi feels his words like a punch to her gut. “Oh,” she says softly, leaning back against her seat. 

“I won’t if you don’t want me to, of course. I just felt like you deserved to know.” 

Devi nods. She’s got nothing to say to that. She’s never brought  _ anyone _ to visit her dad before. If—if she brought Ben, that made this  _ real, _ the realest thing in her life. “I’ll think about it,” she murmurs, glancing out the window. 

Ben nods. “Of course. Take all the time you want.” 

They drive in silence then, but Devi can’t quell the nerves rising in her stomach at the thought of bringing Ben to her home, to her father. He deserved it, though. Perhaps this is her chance to show him what he’s become to her. 

* * *

Devi wakes up with a scream trapped in her throat. 

The nightmares about her father get worse around the anniversary of his death every year. She’s thrashing, trying futilely to fight through a crowd, and yet all she can do is watch him clutch at his chest and die. She wants to scream, scream that she knows how to save him, scream that someone needs to be there to help him, scream and scream, but she can’t. 

She can’t make a sound. 

The worst nightmares are the ones where her mother dies too, though, and Devi  _ hates _ those, hates them with a passion. She presses a hand to her pounding heart, trying to stop herself from hyperventilating.

She closes her eyes, and all she can see is her father dying, her mother dying, and her, helpless to save them. 

Her bedroom door creaks open, and for a second, she’s terrified, holding her breath. 

“Devi?” Ben’s voice calls out, and she slumps like a marionette with its strings cut, tension instantly leaving her body. “Devi, are you alright?” 

Ben walks closer into the room, dimly lit from the light in the hallway, to see Devi with tear tracks down her face. He closes the door instantly and walks to her, switching the lamp light on. “Hey,” he says softly, crouching down next to her bed. “I heard some noises. Are you ok?” 

It’s a dumb question on his part, any fool with half a brain can see that Devi’s most certainly  _ not _ ok, but she appreciates him asking all the same. She can’t speak, though, the lump in her throat too thick, so she simply shakes her head. 

“Ok.” Ben climbs up onto the bed, wearing a soft, worn shirt and flannel pants, and pulls her into him, rubbing his hand up and down her back. “You don’t have to explain. Just breathe.” 

Devi buries her head into his side and just smells him, and with each pass of Ben’s hand over her spine, the lump in her throat lessens. She feels him press a kiss to the crown of her hair a few times, and her grip tightens on him. Even if she’ll never be ready to talk, she never wants to leave this moment, ever. She’s never felt safer than here, with him. 

She owes him an explanation, though, waking him up in the middle of the night, having him come to her room to find her crying. She knows she does, of course. She just needs a few more moments before she works up the courage to tell him. 

“Did I ever tell you about the time I broke my mom’s favorite vase because I used it for a science experiment?” Ben says suddenly. 

Devi turns her face up from her chest to look at him, a laugh bubbling up despite the sadness still firmly entrenched in her lungs. “What?” 

Ben winces. “I, uh, I was pretty into chemical reactions and stuff like that as a kid, so I decided that I wanted to see what I could find in my house and make a reaction out of.” 

Devi gapes at him, and lightly smacks him on the arm. “Ben! That’s very dangerous!” 

He shrugs. “I was nine. I didn’t exactly think things through. So um, my mom’s favorite vase was this beautiful glass one, with all of these pretty glass carvings at the top. I took it, because it looked like the closest thing to a beaker, and I dumped a bunch of chemicals in there: detergent, baking soda, bleach, antifreeze, some really dangerous stuff.” 

Devi stifles a laugh. “Oh my god.” 

Ben’s no longer looking at her, but his fingers are tracing soothing patterns up and down her back as he recounts the memory. “And things started bubbling, a lot quicker than I expected them to. So I kind of panicked, ran out of my house, and threw the vase as far away from me as I could.” 

Devi’s shaking with laughter now, hand pressed to her mouth. “And it broke, and when my mom found out, she yelled at me for about three years, and I was never allowed to conduct a science experiment in our house again.” 

Devi giggles. “I can imagine.” 

He looks down at her, smiling. “I still found ways to make them happen, though.” 

“I’m sure you did,” Devi murmurs. The sadness around her heart has loosened a bit, enough so that she feels she can breathe again, that she can talk to Ben. “I had a dream about my dad,” she begins. 

Ben says nothing, just keeps looking at her with those ever so patient, understanding blue eyes. Devi closes her eyes, attempts to build up some strength. “I think this was the first year I forgot the anniversary was approaching,” she admits, guilt pooling in her stomach. “You know, it hasn’t even been that long, he’s only been gone for twelve years, but every year before now, it was like it occupied every piece of my mind. But this year, I didn’t even realize the date was coming up until you mentioned it.” 

Ben’s grip tightens around her, pulling her closer to him, and Devi holds onto him tighter, clutching him like he’s her last lifeline. “I don’t want to forget him,” she whispers, admitting her greatest fear. “But every day, it gets harder. Sometimes, I can’t remember the exact color of his eyes, the way he laughed, the way he smiled. I’m so scared of forgetting him.” 

Ben draws back, cupping her face with his hands, gently nudging her so she looks up at him. “Your dad isn’t someone you can forget, Devi,” he says softly. “He’s not like that. He’s a part of you, more than you even know. I know you’re scared of forgetting who he was, but that’s ok. I can’t promise you won’t forget those things, but I can promise you you’ll never forget the most important thing in the world: how he loved you.” 

Devi bites her lip. Ben’s right. There’s nothing in the world she can do besides remembering her dad more often. Ben can’t do anything. But maybe she doesn’t need him to do anything. Maybe she just needs him to listen. Maybe that’s all she’s ever needed of him. 

She trails her hand down his arm and links their hands together, pressing her thumb against his wrist, feeling his pulse. “Thank you.” 

Ben gives her a small smile. It’s strained, though, and suddenly, Devi realizes she’s never asked him about his parents. They were both still alive, Devi knew that much, but he didn’t talk about them often. 

This was what she could do. Reach out to Ben, be a comfort to him in the same way he had been to her. “What about you? What about your parents?” 

Ben looks away from her, his jaw clenching. “They’re not like yours, Devi,” he whispers. “I don’t really know how to talk about them.” 

Devi tightens her grip on his hand. “Whatever you want to say, I promise I’ll listen.” 

He smiles at her sadly, and her heart breaks for him anew. Devi’s not like him. Somehow, he fixes everything by simply being there. She’s the exact opposite, she tears people apart, breaks them, makes everything worse. 

(she wants to fix this for ben, to make this better, to ease this pain, but soon she’ll have to learn that some things can’t be fixed, and this is not something devi is good at, but it is the truth, the painful, painful truth she’ll have to learn)

“It’s nothing like your story, Devi,” he starts. “They’re both alive, you know. I don’t really have anything to complain about.” 

“Hey, hey, no,” Devi says, sitting up so she’s no longer slumped against him. She cups his face in her hand, turning it towards her. “Don’t say that. It matters. What happened matters.” 

“It’s not anything tragic, though, Devi,” Ben says. He shrugs noncommittally, and she can  _ see _ he’s spent a whole life convincing himself his feelings are worthless, that his emotions are invalid, and Devi wants nothing more than to undo that, to tell him that he’s worthy of everything. “They just—they never really spent all that much time with me. They were always working, and they didn’t pay much attention to my life. I can’t remember the last time they came to something of mine that I invited them to,” he says, his voice suddenly so small, like that of a little boy, and Devi can’t help it anymore. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him into her. 

It is her turn to be the strong one, to offer the comforting shoulder, to be the steady hands. Ben has done it for far too long. 

His arms immediately go around her, and he buries his face in her neck. “I guess I just got used to this idea that they never wanted me. They weren’t the only ones to make that decision,” he laughs, bitter and cold. “No one has ever wanted me.” 

Devi’s heart  _ shatters. _ She runs her hand through his hair, impossibly soft, and resists the urge to trace his face with her hands, like she had when they had fallen asleep together. “I’m sorry, Ben,” she offers. It’s pathetic, pitiful, and she wants to slap herself for offering such a meagre comfort. He deserves better, deserves someone who knows exactly what to say to make the situation better, to make him feel better, and Devi hates that she can’t be the perfect person for him when he is so clearly the perfect one for her. 

She can feel his smile, though, right underneath her jaw. “It’s fine. Probably need therapy for it, but whatever.” 

“No, Ben,” Devi says, drawing back from him. His beautiful eyes are looking at her right now, and they always make her lose her breath, but she forces herself to remain focused. “You are wanted. Trust me. You are one of the best friends I’ve ever had. You’re such an amazing person, and I’m sorry your parents can’t see that. They were so lucky to have someone like you.” 

He smiles at her, though his eyes still hold a hint of sadness. That’s not something she can fix now, but his smile is genuine, and she’ll take what she can get. “Thank you, Devi,” he murmurs, reaching his hand up to brush his thumb over her cheekbone, and for a second she thinks he might lean closer, to kiss her like she’s wanted him to for  _ months, _ to let her fall into him, but then his hand falls away from her face and she feels her heart sink. “I’ll let you sleep, now,” he says, making to move off her bed. 

“Wait!” She grabs his wrist. “I—I know this is a lot to ask, but would you mind staying here tonight?” Her gaze falls to her bed, unable to look him in the eyes. “Just—just until I fall asleep.” 

Her eyes flicker up to look at him, and Devi feels like a weight is sitting on her chest, preventing her from breathing as she waits for him to answer. 

After what feels like an eternity, he nods.

“Yeah. Yeah, of course, Devi. Whatever you need.” 

Devi breathes a sigh of relief, and Ben shifts so he’s back in their original position, leaning against her headboard, on top of her covers, while she settles in next to him. She thinks she’s too keyed up on the feeling of his body so close to hers to sleep, even if he’s more of a comforting presence than anything else, but she must really be exhausted, because the second his hand begins to smooth down her back soothingly, she feels her eyelids getting heavier, her body settling in next to his. 

Devi sleepily tucks herself closer to Ben, shamelessly seeking his warmth in her cold bedroom. She clumsily reaches a hand out as her eyes drift shut and loosely grabs a fistful of his shirt, determined to keep him here with her even after she falls asleep. 

Things always seem a little easier when he was around. 

* * *

Devi’s searching the whole house for her phone, turning up couch cushions and opening dresser drawers for it. Logically, she knows it’s not probably there, but it doesn’t hurt to look. 

She’s in her room now, frustratedly staring at her utter mess of a bed, when she hears the front door unlock. 

“Devi?” Ben calls. “I’m back.” 

“In here!”

She doesn’t even walk out of her room, her mind occupied with where her phone could be. She could have  _ sworn _ she brought it into her room, and for a moment, her mind panics, worrying she left it back at her mom’s place in Toronto when they had come back from their trip to visit her father last week. 

But no, she’s being utterly ridiculous. She’s used her phone since then, and therefore, it  _ has _ to be in their apartment. Or work, but she can only tackle one place at a time.

Devi chews her lip as Ben appears in her doorway. “Whoa,” he says, eyebrows raised. “What happened here?” 

“I lost my phone,” she grumbles. 

“Again?” 

“For the last time, I didn’t lose my phone when we went to the zoo! Losing something and finding out a monkey took it are two very different things!” 

Ben snickers at the memory. “You’re always losing things, aren’t you?” 

Devi flips him off. “I am not.” 

Ben shakes his head. “David,” he says, pulling her phone out of his pocket, “when are you going to learn from me? You just need to be a little more calm. That way, finding things is a lot easier.” 

Devi stares at him before stalking over and yanking her phone out of his hand. “Where did you find it?” 

“In the cabinet full of coffee mugs and water glasses,” Ben smirks. “You must have left it there this morning when you were getting a cup of coffee this morning. I was just about to get a glass of water myself when I found it and then came in here. I did  _ not _ expect to see that Hurricane Devi had torn the place up like this, however.” He eyes the bedding on the other side of the room, crumpled in a ball. 

Devi rolls her eyes. “Thanks, but seriously, you couldn’t have just told me?” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” 

Devi slides her phone into her pocket and looks at Ben, really looks at him, drinking him in, in a way she rarely does. This week’s been unusually busy for the both of them, and this is the first time in a while she gets to take in the sight of him. They’d been like passing ships in the night, missing each other constantly, with Devi working the night shift at the hospital, and Ben working a regular schedule. She misses him, in a way that’s a lot more painful than she has expected, because he’s  _ right there, _ she just never has time to be with him. 

“Well, let me clean up my room, and then we can get started on dinner.” 

Ben nods. “Ok, then.” 

He walks out of her room, and Devi gets started on her bed first, bringing the comforter over from the corner and making her bed again. As she does so, however, her mind can’t help but drift, and she thinks about what had happened while they were at her mom’s house. 

Ben had eventually ended up coming with her; it wouldn’t have felt right to Devi if he hadn’t, and he had been quiet and respectful and lovely, especially when they visited her father’s favorite place; the park. 

She can still feel Ben’s hand in hers as he’d spoken to her father, as if he was actually there, and not just ashes floating on the wind, the warm, strong way his hand had felt, the way his voice had soothed her nerves and set her alight all at the same time, the way she had wished it would be possible for him to  _ actually _ meet her dad. 

Her hand comes up to her cheek, unwittingly, as she thinks of the soft kiss he had pressed to it after she had told her father about him, how they had unexpectedly become friends, how he was a trusted confidant, how he was one of the best people she’d ever met. 

Just the memory warms her. 

Devi shakes her head, as if to jostle herself out of the daydream, and focuses on picking up her room, ignoring the emotions stirring in her gut. When she finally finishes, she washes her hands in her bathroom before walking into the kitchen, and stops straight when she sees a bunch of red gladioli sitting on their kitchen island. 

“Ben,” she says slowly, walking towards the gladioli as if they would bite. “What is this?” 

Ben looks over from where he’s got his head poked in the fridge and smiles at her. “Oh, I got you those,” he says casually, as if he doesn’t know Devi’s heart is pounding right now, about to leap out of her chest. 

She stares at him. “What?” she rasps, her voice barely above a whisper. 

He nods, closing the fridge door and crossing his arms, standing across from her, at the opposite end of the island. “Yeah. I remembered you mentioned red gladioli were your favorite flowers, right, and I know you’ve been having a tough few weeks, with work and your dad and all, so I thought you could use a little pick me up.” His confidence falters, and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “I was so sure I had gotten it right. I can take them back if you don’t like them, though.” 

Devi gapes at him. Her mind is overwhelmed, running a million miles per minute, and it's like she can’t think of anything, can’t process what’s happening, until one thing hits her with such clarity it seems to knock the breath out of her lungs. 

_ I love you, _ she thinks. 

She clutches the kitchen island, nearly knocked over at the force of her confession, but standing her ground nonetheless. Because it is  _ true, _ she does love him. He remembered her favorite flowers, something she’s sure she hadn’t mentioned more than once, and he had brought them for her after a long week because he wanted to make her feel better. 

Her mind flickers through memories; Ben, giving her his blanket; memorizing facts about her for  _ her _ sake; calling her in sick so she could get rest; helping her through a nightmare; Ben, marrying her. 

He had always done what she needed, had always given her everything she had ever wanted, and the truth had been staring at her in the face for so long. She does. She  _ does _ love him, loves him so much, because of everything he has done for her, because of who he is. She can’t bear to hold it in for one more moment, needs to tell him or else she would combust. 

(ben’s no longer just another friend of hers: he’s coded into her body, the same way her genes are, he is wrapped around chromosomes and veins and bones, he is marked into her heart and branded into her muscles, and he is a part of her, even more so than the blood that flows through her veins. devi is a doctor, and although she knows this is not actually possible, it feels as though loving ben is something she was always meant to do, a fundamental part of her gene code, a piece of her dna that can never be cut out)

Devi feels it, in every cell in her body, on such a fundamental level that she can’t think of denying it or hiding it any longer. So she doesn’t, opening her mouth and letting the words come forth. 

“I love you,” she says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **important shit pls read**
> 
> hi pls don't kill me bc of what i did!!! thx so much!! pls leave a comment tho and lmk what you think about that ending! love hearing from you guys!
> 
> ok so i did some research on the green card marriage interview questions and even tho i picked only like, four or five, i legit thought of what ben and devi would answer for every single one of them bc i'm obsessed so if y'all would ever wanna read that as an excerpt pls let me know in a comment i'd love to write it thx
> 
> also ben's story is based off of smth i did as a kid 10/10 do not recommend although it was fun not gonna lie
> 
> devi and i share the same fave flowers bc red gladioli mean strength, determination, and faithfulness while red means a lasting and enduring love. so, you know, thought it would be perfect for my girl
> 
> your comments and kudos make me happier than ben and devi cuddling! come talk to me about the show! you can find me on tumblr: @[parkersedith](https://parkersedith.tumblr.com)


	4. act iv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _(was that what love was? simply wanting to know everything about a person, to memorize every moment you were with them, the endless ache of the other half of your heart being trapped in another body. devi remembers the old greek myth—that humans were initially born with four arms, four legs, and two heads, and zeus, threatened by their power, tore them in half, condemning them to spend their life searching for their other half—is that ben? is he her soulmate? is he the other half of her heart, beating next to her?)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys. i know this update is really late, but i promise i have a few reasons. one, i hit exam week as soon as i posted my third chapter and i had to throw myself into that. secondly, i wanted ao3 to clean up the issues and maintenance it was doing before i posted. that being said, i hope you enjoy this chapter after that cliffhanger i left you all on
> 
> this final chapter is dedicated to everyone single one of you out there who has diligently left a comment on every chapter of this fic. i know who you are, i promise, even if i haven't responded, and i truly, _truly_ appreciate you, more than you can know. i promise i'll reply to your comments, and in the meantime, please accept my heartfelt gratitude. you've stuck with me through this crazy journey, and i hope you enjoy this last piece!
> 
> this is all fluff, pure, cute fluff, and it's incredibly, **incredibly,** self indulgent. i had a fantastic time writing this story, and i can't wait to write more for you guys. i hope this ending is satisfying!
> 
> thank you k enjoy!!!!! byeeeeeeee

The blood is rushing in her ears, and the second the words are out in the world, she wants to take them back, wants to catch them before they float to his ears and stuff them back down, choke them down like she has been for three months. 

She swears she can feel a pin drop, her stomach turning as she faces him, faces her husband. 

(really, in another other situation, devi would laugh at herself, at the situation she’s gotten herself into, in love with her husband, who she’s pretty sure—though not totally sure—loves her back, and yet, neither of them are saying anything, trapped across from each other because of an island of granite, staring at each other) 

Ben swallows roughly, and she doesn’t want to watch as his throat bobs, but she can’t help herself, letting her eyes drift down the length of his body, a body that she desperately wants to wake up curled into in the morning. 

“What—what did you say?” he says, his voice hoarse, as if he’s been screaming, though he hasn’t said a word for what feels like  _ eternity _ to Devi. 

She twists her hands, dropping her gaze from his eyes, boring into hers, brilliantly blue, like the sky, to the island, to the flowers he’d gotten her. 

She runs a hand over the edge of one of the petals, silken soft under her touch, and the words leap into her throat again. Devi wants to stuff them back down, wants to pretend that she didn’t say them, but she can’t. She can’t live like this, spending her life hoping that her husband, her partner, that  _ Ben, _ will love her back. 

It’s too painful, and although there is the chance that he may not love her back, Devi knows that he will never leave her, just like she will never leave him. She thinks she was crafted for a few purposes in life, and that one of those things—besides being a kickass doctor, of course—was to love him. 

“I—I love you,” she repeats, nearly tearing the beautiful petal as her hand twists. She pulls her hand away from the flowers immediately, unable to think of destroying the gift he’s given her. Devi lifts her eyes to connect with his, which are wide with shock. 

“God, please, Ben, say something,” she begs, stepping around the island in the kitchen. “Please. Even—” she swallows now, the words springing to her tongue bitter, but forces herself to say them anyways. “Even if you don’t feel the same way. I—I can deal with it. Nothing has to change. Just, please. Say  _ something.” _ She reaches out and grabs his hand, curling her fingers around his. 

It’s this that snaps Ben out of whatever trance she’s put him in, glancing down at their intertwined hands, and then back at her. They’re barely a foot apart, and yet, Devi cannot breathe, cannot even think when he looks at her like that. 

She has known Ben for two years, has been married to him for six months, and yet, she wants to discover more about him. Endlessly more, wants every single moment of his life seared into her mind, wants to know everything. 

(was that what love was? simply wanting to know everything about a person, to memorize every moment you were with them, the endless ache of the other half of your heart being trapped in another body. devi remembers the old greek myth—that humans were initially born with four arms, four legs, and two heads, and zeus, threatened by their power, tore them in half, condemning them to spend their life searching for their other half—is that ben? is he her soulmate? is he the other half of her heart, beating next to her?) 

Ben’s fingers tighten over hers, so tight she cannot help but gasp in pain, before his grip loosens again, and then he clenches his jaw and looks at her. 

Before Devi can prompt him once more, her heart in her throat from waiting for his response, he surges forward, the hand not covering her own wrapping around her back as he presses her to him, and then he finally, blissfully, kisses her. 

She blinks in shock for a moment, taken aback at the feeling of Ben’s lips pressing against hers, before her body catches up to what is going on faster than her mind, and her eyes drift shut. 

The last time she had kissed Ben had been at their wedding, and it had been short, more of a contract than a kiss, something they did to make sure that they were convincing people this was legal. 

But this...Devi’s never been kissed like this before, like she was something precious, like she was something worthwhile. She moves her other hand up to cup Ben’s cheek, fingers brushing against impossibly soft hair as he kisses her. She swallows back a moan when his arm moves up from her waist, and she’s never really noticed how much larger his hands are than hers until one splays across her back, pulling her into him. 

But then he steps forward, pushing her against the kitchen counter, and it should feel painful, the edge of the counter digging into her back, but all she can focus on is the way that Ben’s lips feel on hers, the pounding of his heart she can feel through his chest. 

He runs his tongue along the seam of her lips and she opens her mouth, wanting more already, a hunger stirring in her gut, and damn, she did  _ not _ know he was this good of a kisser or else she definitely wouldn’t have waited this long. 

It’s like a scene out of one of her dreams, dreams she forbids herself from having, but it’s even better than she could have imagined. 

Ben kisses her like she’s air, like she’s the only thing he needs to breathe, and Devi never wants to leave, wants to wrap herself in this moment and live in it forever. 

(she would be happy to drown in him, in the ocean of his eyes and with him kissing the breath from her lungs, he makes her feel  _ alive, _ he makes her  _ feel, _ and with anyone else, devi would be scared, but with ben, she knows not to be, because she’s going to jump off the ledge with him, hand in hand, putting themselves into beautiful, chaotic, free fall) 

She can’t swallow the moan that escapes from her throat when he cups her neck, thumb brushing against her pulse, as he kisses her harder, consuming her, and she  _ likes _ it. Devi wants to be consumed by him, and to consume him as well.

He pulls away then, and Devi reluctantly lets him go, knowing that air is a pathetic necessity, but she doesn’t let him go far, doesn’t let him out of the circle of her arms. For a moment, she seriously contemplates locking the apartment door and throwing their keys out of the window, so she can keep him here with her, in the place they have built their lives together, the place her heart now calls home. 

Ben is as hesitant as she is to let her go, thankfully, and tips his head forward, pressing his forehead against hers. She brushes her fingers over the line of his jaw, the curve of his cheek, feeling the faintest scratches of stubble there. “You love me,” Ben repeats, so low so she can barely hear him. 

His warm breath washes over her lips, and Devi bites her lip so that she doesn’t drag him in for another kiss. He’s still got her pressed against the kitchen counter, his touch sending chills down her spine. “I love you,” she confirms.

He huffs a laugh then and pulls back, enough so that when she opens her eyes she finds him looking at her. A knot of emotion rises in her chest when she locks eyes with him. 

Because the way he is looking at her is something, something  _ more. _ She can’t quite describe it, only that all the books and tv shows and movies she’s read pale in comparison to what is shining in his eyes, and viscerally, for a second, she wishes that she was a poet, so she might better be able to describe this. 

(because here it is: ben looks at devi like one looks at their favorite blanket or their favorite novel; something reliable, something beautiful, something akin to home; he doesn’t look at her like one looks at the moon or at the stars in the sky, because she is not unattainable and far away, she is here, with him, and she is alive, breathing in his arms, and he looks at her like he is coming home to her)

“God, Devi,” he mutters. He brushes a hand down her cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, and smiles. “Do you even know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say those words?” 

She furrows her brow. “Um, a few months?” After all, that had been how long she was waiting to say them. 

He shakes his head, leaning in closer. “Two years,” he murmurs, just before he covers her mouth with his again. 

She pulls him closer, impossibly closer, even if he’s painfully pressing her into the counter now, because she doesn’t think she’ll ever get enough of him, of the way he seems to break open her soul and set her alight, the way he sets her free. 

She kisses him until her lungs burn, until she desperately needs air, and she pulls away. “Two years?” she repeats, her head dizzy from his kisses.

He nods. “From the moment I saw you in the hallway, yelling at those police officers,” he says, tracing a line down her face. He leans forward and presses a gentle kiss to the curve of her jaw, and what remaining air is left in Devi’s lungs flees. “You were furious, and I fell head over heels for you right then.” He drops kisses up the line of her jaw, scattering them across her cheek, and Devi can’t think with him doing that. 

“Wait, Ben,” she gasps, and he steps away from her instantly. 

She misses the feeling of his body against hers, wants to pull her back to him, but when he touches her she can’t think, so she has to separate them, at least for a bit. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, but she shakes her head. 

“No, no, don’t be. Just...” she bites her lip. “You’ve been in love with me for two years?” 

His mouth twists into a wry smile. “Yeah. Why else would I have agreed to this?” 

Devi feels like her whole world has just dropped out from underneath her feet. “Two years. And you didn’t say anything?” she demands. 

Ben’s eyebrows furrow and he crosses his arms. “I didn’t want to mess anything up. I mean, you clearly didn’t feel the same way.” 

“And how would you know that?” she snaps. “How do you know the second you said something I wouldn’t have reciprocated?” 

“Well, you seemed shocked that it was two years, Devi!” he protests. “When did you realize?” 

She frowns. “Just—just now.” 

“Exactly!” 

“But that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel it sooner!” Even now, Devi knows, if Ben had said something, did anything to make her aware of how he felt, she would have kissed him, would have reciprocated. She’s loved him for far longer than she’s ever known.

“But how would I know for sure?” he asks.

“Why does it matter? I love you!” 

“And I love you!” 

“So why are we arguing?” Devi presses. 

“I don’t really know!” 

It’s suddenly a little too funny for Devi to handle, and she can feel the frown on her face slipping, slipping until she starts to giggle. “Well, at least we just had our first fight.” 

Ben smirks, moving closer to her, running his hand down her arm, and Devi’s brain short circuits. “I think we skipped a few steps.” 

“Hmm,” she whispers. “We’ve never been one for tradition anyways.” 

“You know what I just realized?” he says, looping his arm around her waist to pull her towards him. 

Devi tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. “What?” 

He grins. “We never really got a wedding night, did we?” 

* * *

Devi rinses one of the bowls before trying it with a washcloth. Ben’s—their—apartment, had a perfectly functioning dishwasher, but years of living with her mother had indoctrinated her to do the dishes without using a dishwasher. She had left some of the dishes from dinner last night in the sink, and she didn’t want to deal with a messy house right now. 

She reaches for another bowl when she feels a pair of arms slide around her waist. “Good morning,” Ben says. He presses a kiss to her head. “You’re up early.” 

She hums, ignoring him as he presses another kiss to her shoulder. “I resent the implication of that statement.” 

He snorts, retracting his arms from around her to open the fridge. “What implication?” 

“That you’re the early riser of the two of us.” 

He glances back at her. “Devi, last week I told you we had brunch with my mother at 10:30 and you said, and I quote, ‘that’s the asscrack of dawn.’”

“Well,” she says, tossing the dishcloth down, leaning against the counter with her hip, “I’m not the one who jumps at the special effects in  _ Riverdale.” _

He gives her a wounded look from where he’s clutching the bottle of orange juice with one hand. “Hey, they’re scary!” 

She rolls her eyes, but can’t resist a smile. “Sure they are. And please, Ben,” she says, reaching forward and grabbing the bottle out of his hand, “use a glass. We’re not heathens.” 

He rolls his eyes and opens the cabinet, reaching in to pull a glass out. “Happy?” 

She smiles. “Very.” 

“So,” he says, sipping his juice, “did you find out where you were going to be placed for residency?” 

She clears her throat, glancing at him quickly. “Yeah. They sent the email out yesterday.” 

He sets the glass down, and she doesn’t even have to look at him to know he’s staring at her. “Yesterday? Devi, why didn’t you tell me?” 

She shrugs. “Just guess that made it all the more real.” 

“Oh. Well, uh, take your time, I guess.” 

She twists the washcloth in her hands, tapping her foot as she turns to face him. “I, um, I got placed here.” 

He stares at her for a moment, and then lets out a laugh, pulling her into a tight hug up off her feet and spinning her around. “You’re staying?” 

She laughs, giddy. She’d been worried, initially, when she’d gotten the news. This thing between them—it was so new, barely three weeks old, and she didn’t know if their relationship could survive her moving halfway across the country to work at her job. And now she didn’t have to worry about that. 

He sets her down and cups her face, looking at her in that soft way that makes her insides turn to mush, not that she’d ever tell anyone else that. “I’m so proud of you.” 

Devi smiles. “Thanks, Ben.” 

“Why didn’t you want to tell me?” 

She bites her tongue. “I don’t know. This thing we have—it’s so new. I didn’t want to mess it up by moving halfway across the country for my job and leaving you behind.” 

“David,” Ben says affectionately. “I would have come with you.” 

She stares at him. “You—you would have?” 

“Of course. I meant what I said in that interview. You’re the love of my life.” 

That does it for her. She fists her hands in his shirt and tugs him towards her, pressing her lips against his, hard. She nearly falls as he stumbles into her, shocked, but he rights himself quickly, his hands instantly going to her waist and to her hair. He tastes like orange juice, bright and sweet on her tongue, something she wants to savor. 

The hunger that never seems to go away springs to life in her gut again, and she tempers it down so that she doesn’t completely overwhelm him. Kissing Ben gets better, every time, and every time she pulls away, she wants to kiss him more and more. 

She wishes that air were not a necessity for her, so that she may stay like this forever, kissing him, breathing him in, she wishes that she was fashioned for space, because kissing Ben is a vacuum all on its own, with a spinning, electrifying sort of gravitational pull that Devi never wants to pull herself out of. 

He’s the first one to pull back, and she whines, still craving him, his touch. “Well,” he breathes. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.” 

Devi rolls her eyes at that, despite the happiness bubbling in her veins like champagne, simmering underneath her skin. “Don’t get a big head, Gross.” 

“How could I not?” he murmurs. He bumps his nose against her jaw, his hand sliding from her hair to her waist, pulling her more securely into him. Devi wants to laugh when she thinks of how they must look now, like two vines, wrapping themselves around one another, tangled up in each other’s orbit. “My wife is a gorgeous, smart, phenomenal doctor. I’d say I hit the jackpot with you.” 

He nips at her jaw before pressing soft kisses up and down the line of her neck, and Devi sighs, digging her fingers into his biceps. “Ok, maybe you can get a big head about that.” 

She feels his grin against her skin before he presses another kiss there, and as much as she doesn’t want to, Devi forces herself to disentangle herself from his embrace, moving back towards the counter. “Not now, Ben,” she smirks. 

He frowns like a petulant child. “But we both have the whole day off.” 

“Yeah, and we agreed we were going to spend it at IKEA trying to furnish the guest room.” 

Devi’s room has now become the guest bedroom, having moved into Ben’s room, and it’s something she still can’t believe, that she wakes up with him wrapped around her, that she doesn’t have to reach more than a few inches to find him again, that he’s right there. 

“What guests are we going to have here anyways?” he mutters, catching her hand to trace patterns over her palm. 

Devi raises an eyebrow. “My mother?” 

Ben groans. “I hate shopping.” 

“That’s a blatant lie and you know it. You love shopping for clothes. After all, didn’t you tell me I dressed like a peasant when we first met?” 

Ben smirks, turning around and reaching for his mug. Devi shamelessly lets her gaze drift down, admiring the way the muscles in his back shift under his shirt. “Well,” he says, turning back around to face her, “you were dressed in a lab coat.” 

“Because I had just come off rotation! What, did you expect me to be dressed for the Met Gala?” 

Ben shakes his head. “No. I just have a taste for the finer things in life.” 

“Damn right you do. You married me.” 

“I’m truly blessed,” he says dryly, sipping his coffee. 

She steps over to him, setting aside the coffee mug to loop her arms around his neck. “You know you are.” 

Just before she kisses him, though, he places two fingers on her lips to stop her, smirking. “What happened to IKEA?” 

Devi shoots him a withering look. “IKEA will still be there in an hour. We can have a nice breakfast first, right?” 

He smiles at her then, unexpectedly soft, and she feels her heart flutter. Flutter! Like she’s in some stupid romance novel or something, but she can’t help it. Ben makes her feel like she’s a heroine in one of Eleanor’s favorite romantic comedies. 

“Yeah. I’d like that.” 

* * *

“So, who do you think is the real parasite?” Devi asks. 

Ben’s forehead furrows in thought, like he’s giving real consideration to her question. “Well I mean, the whole point of this movie is that there’s more than one type of parasite in the film, right?” 

When Ben had suggested a quiet night in and a movie, Devi, who’d been working herself to the bone with her residency, leapt at the chance. She needed a break, where she wasn’t cramming food down her throat and running from floor to floor. 

(and, don’t tell ben this, but she’s pretty sure he’s the only thing keeping her alive, making her come back to bed when she would stay up too late in their office, eyes blurring as she scanned patient charts, pressing an apple into her hand as she rushed out the door in the morning so that she at least ate  _ something. _ she’s grateful to him for it, because she knows she has a tendency—they both do—to throw herself into her work and forget the world around her, but ben brought her back to herself, brought her down to the earth. she did the same for him. they took care of each other) 

So, when he had chosen  _ Parasite, _ a favorite of both of theirs, she had been more than happy to watch it. Plus, in the two and a half years they’d known each other, they’d never watched the movie together, and she wanted to know what he thought of it.

“Well,” he begins, “that sort of dives into what a parasite is, right? It’s something that leeches off of something else while harming that thing. It takes advantage of them.” 

Devi glares at him. “Don’t tell me you think the poor family is the parasite. I might have to divorce you then.” 

He laughs. “No, no of course not. Well, at least not  _ just _ them.” 

“Explain,” Devi says, sitting up. As she does so, however, she shivers. It’s a bit cooler in their apartment than she would have liked, but she doesn’t want to get up now to change the temperature, so comfortable on their couch. She glances at Ben. “Move,” she says. 

He raises an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Move,” she repeats, kicking his leg. He does, thankfully, and she tucks herself into his side, sighing at the warmth coming from him. “It’s cold, and you’re warm.” 

“Oh, I see how it is,” Ben grumbles, but he’s smiling. “You’re just using me for my body.” 

“You know I am. Now, explain what you were saying about the families being the parasite?” 

“Well, at first glance, people want to say the poor family is the parasite, right. Which they are, it’s undeniable, considering the way that they sort of insert themselves into the rich family’s life and start to become closer and closer to them. But the rich family is the parasite as well. They can’t do anything for themselves. They literally do  _ nothing. _ They leech off of the driving, the housekeeping, the cooking, the efforts of the poor family, to sustain themselves. They literally can’t even feed themselves without exploiting other people.” 

Devi tips her head to the side. “Ok, I see your point. But don’t you think the capitalist system that’s established in South Korea—and everywhere, really—is the real parasite here? After all, the poor family wouldn’t resort to such desperate measures if the system didn’t create such massive wealth disparities. I mean, even take a look at the state of the world today. The top like, 10 richest people have more money than the bottom 50% of the population—combined. You’re telling me that’s not fucked up?” 

“No, it definitely is,” he says, tracing patterns across her arm, and it’s so fucking unfair because she can barely think when he does that. “I’m just saying, the Kims aren’t the  _ only _ poor family in South Korea, but they got so obsessed with the Parks and their wealth that it led to their own downfall. And the rich family was so oblivious to what the poor family was doing—because they treat their servants like property, only paying attention to them when they need something from them—that it ended up destroying their lives.” 

Devi sits up more fully on the couch, facing Ben. “But look at all the motifs in the movie. Ok, so staircases, first of all,” she says, ticking it off on her fingers. “The poor family lives in a horrible, mold-infested basement and even the housekeeper’s husband lives in the basement of the Parks’ house. That’s the clearest representation of class immobility and mobility. When the Kims have to go home, they literally have to go  _ underground, _ below the level of normal people. To get into their house, the Parks have to go up. I just don’t get how you can argue that the people are the parasites when the system is the one responsible for it.” 

“But,” Ben points out, “Are you saying that the actions that people commit while under the stress of the system are the system’s fault?” 

“Yes!” 

He shakes his head. “But then you excuse the fact that individual people need to be held accountable for what they do. By that reasoning, then the cycle of abuse that’s present in many murderers is accountable, and not the murderers themselves.” 

Devi swears. “Ok, you might have somewhat of a point there,” she concedes. “But the capitalist system is still the one at fault. I mean, come on, Ben.” She drops her gaze to the couch, suddenly unable to look at him in those blue, blue eyes. “It’s hard not to fault it when you go to India and you see all of the people sitting on the streets, starving, across from gigantic mansions. It’s hard when you see that Bezos is a trillionaire while exploiting his workers. I mean, my parents, they came from  _ nothing. _ They had to work every day of their lives to be successful, and they were the lucky ones. There are so many people trapped in the cycle of poverty because the world wants to keep people where they are, wants to trap them.” 

He frowns. “It is horrible.” 

“But you don’t get it,” she laughs. “I’m not trying to fault you, or anything, but you’ve been rich your whole life. You haven’t gone and seen the kind of squalor people live in. Hell, I still have family members who don’t even have an actual bathroom, and everything. How can you understand?” 

He brushes back a lock of her hair, and gently tilts her chin up, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “You’re right, Devi. I can’t,” he admits. “I’ve never gone hungry and I’ve never seen the kind of desperation you have. But, if this movie teaches us anything,” he says, nodding towards the screen, “it’s that money isn’t everything. I’d give up every cent of the money I grew up with to have my parents around more.” 

She smiles sadly. “People always want what they don’t have.” 

His grip tightens around her and he pulls her closer. “It’s like the line from the movie. Of course rich people are nice. We can afford to be.” 

“Yeah, but then there’s also a difference between you and like, Bezos. Like, and it’s just kind of upsetting to see people benefitting from a system at the exploitation of others.” 

“That’s true.” 

They fall into silence then, and Devi sneaks glances at Ben as they continue to watch the movie. He looks impossibly handsome like this, the shadows playing over his face, casting his features into sharp relief, turning him from simply handsome to something far more enchanting, captivating. 

(something rises in her gut, a sharp, sharp hunger to bury herself in his embrace, to entrap herself with him, and for the first time in her life, devi thinks that she finally understands the myth of orpheus and eurydice, thinks she finally understands who love can drive people to madness, or to sanity. it reminds her of icarus, how he flew too high, and too low, how he was unable to control himself, and the way she feels about ben is like that, a being all on its own, powerful, chaotic, something that could tear her apart. but right now, she is happy, and she chooses to push the darker thoughts down and sink back into ben’s touch, the last thing in the world grounding her)

Her phone starts buzzing then, insistently against her thigh, and Devi glances at it to see it’s Eleanor who’s calling her. She shoots Ben a glance, but his gaze is still focused on the TV. “El,” she says, sitting up, letting the blanket slip off of her. “What’s up?” 

“Come on, Devi!” El chirps happily. “We’re going out!” 

Devi’s eyes flick over to the clock. “It’s kind of late, isn’t it?” 

Eleanor scoffs. “It’s 9:45.” 

“Yeah, I mean...” she trails off, looking at Ben, who’s paused the movie and is now watching her with furrowed eyes. She places the phone down and puts Eleanor on speaker. “You’re on speaker with me and Ben, Eleanor.” 

“Hey Ben,” Eleanor says, “would you please tell your wife that she needs to come to the bar with us?” 

Ben frowns. “Uh, isn’t it kind of late, Eleanor?” 

“Oh my god,” Eleanor groans. “You two are ridiculous. Devi, how old are you?” 

Devi’s confused, but she goes along with it, for Eleanor’s sake. “Uh, twenty-seven. You know that, El.” 

“Exactly. You’re still in your twenties and you don’t even want to go to a bar. That’s  _ tragic.” _

“Well, we kind of have plans here already,” Ben says. 

“What plans?” 

“We’re watching  _ Parasite,”  _ Devi supplies. “It’s really good!” 

Eleanor groans, and Devi can just  _ see _ her pinching her nose. “You two are pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. You’re squandering away the years where you can acceptably get blackout drunk to watch  _ movies _ on a Friday night. Ugh, I can’t deal with this. Call me when you come to your senses.” 

She clicks off the phone then, leaving Ben and Devi to stare at each other in complete confusion. “What’s wrong with a movie night?” 

“Hell if I know,” Ben says, sounding personally offended. “I like movies!” 

Devi laughs. “Who doesn’t?” 

“I mean, the line and water motifs in  _ Parasite _ are fascinating on their own, but then put them into a movie talking about classism and wealth disparity and they turn into something that’s marvelous.” 

Devi watches him, a fond smile on her face. When Ben gets like this, passionate and really talkative about something, he becomes even more attractive to her, and that attractiveness is only amped when he really knows what he’s talking about. There is something about it, something that Devi can’t quite put her finger on, but she loves it.

“I mean, you know, even manipulating the qualities of water, which always flows from top to bottom, because that’s how water works, to be an allegory for money and how things move from the rich and the poor, is amazing. Like, and it’s against the nature of water to flow in the other direction, which adds a whole other tragic layer to the complexity of the film. And then add in the line motif, especially when the housekeeper tries to wake Mrs. Park. You can see she practically leaps across the line only to wake her up, and then runs back to “her side” again, the side she’s comfortable at. There’s a quite literal line dividing the two of them, and that’s not even getting into where that motif shows up elsewhere. Plus, the peach scene is—” 

She cuts him off then, winding her hand around the back of his neck to tug him down for a kiss. It’s soft, and he responds instantly, threading his hands through her hair to pull her closer and kiss him back. 

Devi kisses him like they have all the time in the world—which, for once, they do. Ben’s hand trails down her back, sending sparks down her spine, to curl around her waist and scraping his nails against her skin. She groans against his mouth, and he slants his lips over hers harder, deepening the kiss and making her head spin. The sweep of his tongue against her lips, the scorch of his hand against her waist, even the way his breath fans out against her cheek, it’s too much and not enough all at once, and she wants more. 

She presses herself against him even harder, tilting her lips so that his catch hers at a rougher, deeper angle. When his tongue sweeps into her mouth, tangling with hers, she clutches his shoulders and nearly whimpers. How could kissing Ben feel so good every time? 

Before they get too carried away, however, Devi forces herself to pull away, heaving, gulping down air. 

Ben seems just as shocked as her, dragging his hand through her hair, and when he speaks, his voice is low and rough, and Devi resolves to kiss him like that  _ far _ more often if she can get him to sound like that. 

(she loves the power she has over him, because he has the exact same power over her, and with ben she feels  _ equal _ in a way she rarely has in her life, like she is his partner, and that, that is what devi has wanted in someone more than anything, someone to encourage her to shoot towards the sun while making sure she doesn’t fly too close) 

“What—what was that for?” he rasps. 

Devi’s cheeks flush, and she’s grateful Ben can’t see her in the darkened room. “No—no reason,” she says, but her voice cracks. 

His fingers on her waist tighten, and she fails to bite back a gasp as he tugs her closer. “I don’t know. I think you had a reason.” 

Devi scowls, looking away from him and back at the TV, where the credits have just begun to roll. “Shut up, Ben.” 

She stubbornly focuses on the credits rolling across the screen and  _ not _ him, but when he leans forward and nips at her throat, her eyes drift shut. “Come on, David. We don’t keep secrets from each other.” 

“You were, just, really attractive, ok?” she bites out, but the words don’t come out as sharp as she’d like, currently tangled up in Ben’s arms. “And I wanted to kiss you.” 

He smirks against her skin, dragging his teeth over the juncture of her jaw and her neck. “Because I was talking about the motifs in a movie we both love?” 

“Because you were kind of smart.” 

“Oh,” he sighs. “Well, that makes sense.” 

“What?” 

She’s expecting him to say some arrogant quip, something about how he’s always smart, so he should always be attractive to her, but instead he just hums against her cheek, pressing a soft kiss there. “Yeah. You're the hottest when you’re smart, so.” 

“So am I always hot then?” she smirks. 

“Yup.” 

“Oh,” she breathes, and then words disappear on her tongue, floating away into the air like cotton candy, as if they’d never been there at all. He buries his face in her neck, occasionally pressing soft kisses to it, but mostly just breathing her in. She cards her fingers through his hair, holding him close to her. 

“Do you think about how insanely out of order we did things?” she says. 

He laughs. “All the time.” 

“We didn’t even have a real date. We got married, and then fell in love, and we still haven’t even gone on one date.” 

“Well, that’s how  _ you _ did it, David,” he says, extracting himself from her so that he can tap her on the nose. “But, we can date, if you want.” 

“I don’t know,” she hums. “You don’t look a lot like my other boyfriends.” 

Ben raises his eyebrows, a smile playing at his lips. “I don’t?” 

“No. You look just like my husband, though.” 

“Well, isn’t that lucky?” 

“I’d say.” 

* * *

Their second wedding is held with a lot more celebration, parents, friends, co-workers attending. 

(devi doesn’t really choose to explain the ceremony beyond a simple vow renewal. only a few people really know the circumstances behind everything, and it would just take too long for her to narrate the story of how she fell in love with ben. plus, that’s not what she’s looking forward to. she just wants to go home to their place, their home, their life)

Just because they love each other now doesn’t mean she’s going to let him pick the movies, though. He’s got horrible taste, and she needs to save her husband from a lifetime of pretension. 

Especially now that she’s chosen to spend her lifetime with him. 

Devi doesn’t regret her choice, though. She doesn’t think she could have made a better one. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your comments and kudos make me happier than devi getting her hogwarts letter! come talk to me about the show! you can find me on tumblr: @[parkersedith](https://parkersedith.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> your comments and kudos make me happier than kamala with tater tots! come talk to me about the show! you can find me on tumblr: @[parkersedith](https://parkersedith.tumblr.com)


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